In one of my classes, we’re on the unit on Foucault, and now every time I see/hear the words “Visibility is a trap,” I think of you.
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All relationships have boundaries, but people usually don’t state them explicitly unless the other person has crossed the line. Therefore, openly stating a boundary implies that the other person has done something wrong, and members of estranged parents’ groups aren’t having that.
Possibly of painful interest to those of you with family issues and crummy parents. This is mostly just quotes, but if you’re like me, it can be illuminating/helpful to see echoes of personal experience atomized like this. Obvious content warning for self-entitled parents saying awful things.
Hmm, okay. Here’s a thought, spurred by a fandom post of all things. I’ve seen arguments to the effect of “romance is not sex” and “sex is not intimacy,” and so on, but how about this: intimacy is not good.
And by that I mean: intimacy is not care. It can be but is not necessarily nurturing, or safe, or nice, or fond.
I need to be able to name the bad or negative intimacies because otherwise that leaves me with a relationship scale from “strangers, no connection” to “best of loves, closest kinship” with nowhere to place the rot and the lousy. There is an unwanted intimacy with witnesses to an embarrassing moment. There is an intimacy with the people who have seen you at your worst because they personally dragged you there. There is an intimacy in the connection between yourself and the ones who have deeply hurt you.
“Intimate” is not the same as “good.”
It can be powerful and electric and full of a yearning to prove something without. being. good.
It’s important to me to be able to recognize a sense of intimacy without always construing it as something positive, and I’d hope that would be important to other people, too.
This is a piece of what I think makes it so difficult to make external (in words) certain negative experiences. You might be able to recount all the moves made and the words used, but it’s sometimes hard to capture how immensely personal it feels. How potent, how close to the bone. That’s intimacy, is what it is. Some intimate interactions are made all the more negative by how intimate they are.
Anyway that’s why I need people not to take the term “intimacy” itself as a ringing endorsement, thanks.
This is a post about a short simple “game”/visual novel called “We Know The Devil,” because Cor has recommended it frequently enough that I actually went and played it myself. Part 1 is the non-spoilers part, and Part 2 is the part with spoilers on everything. In this post, I try to answer a few basic, simple questions: What is it about? What does that title mean? And what the heck was going on with my reaction to that ending?
It’s the end of the semester, which means it’s time for multiple rounds of that classic conversation: “Are you going back to Texas for the break?” “No.” “You’re not going home?” “No, I live here now.” “But… what about family?” “What family?”
“See, this is why you don’t talk to relatives about politics.”
“How about just ‘don’t talk to relatives.'”
Doctor, looking at my test results: Has there been a death in the family? Are you working three jobs? Did something happen?
[tw: abuse, CSA, suicide]
me this week: pretty weird huh how the ones that are actually technically illegal-with-a-minor I’m kinda fine with having happened but the one that actually makes me feel disturbed and violated is the one that it’s perfectly legal and socially acceptable on all counts, but also, why the heck did I ever imply in public that any of the things done to me were ever at all abusive actually, that was a terrible thing to do, I’m terrible, @me I can’t believe you did that.
also me this week: unfortunately, this plan for killing myself wouldn’t actually work,